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If You Never Say Goodbye A X/1999 story Xyn And I say (and I say) It's coming any second And I say, and I say In the blink of an eye And I say (and I say) With a bang and a whimper And I say it's okay If you never say goodbye ~If You Never Say Goodbye~ PM Dawn Whatever coherent thoughts make it through the thick veil of shock are further dulled and obscured by the ravaging, searing pain. So when the realization that he is dying finally emerges from the haze, the significance of its implications is considerably lessened. He grasps at the wound, the sword still imbedded firmly in his chest. With a coldly malicious smirk, Fuuma yanks roughly to reclaim the blade, and as it slides back out, the sharp edges shred his insides all over again. A mangled cry chokes this throat and his legs refuse to hold him upright. He feels himself falling backwards, landing harshly on the unforgiving metal beams of Tokyo Tower. For an eternal moment, he thinks he has exploded upon impact, the cruel jarring making it feel as though his insides would come bursting out through the lesion. But as a tentative hand pats himself down, he discovers that he is relatively intact. The exception being the giant incision that goes straight through his left lung to the other side. Fuuma walks over and stands above him, and suddenly Kamui feels very vulnerable, lying immobile beneath that cool amber gaze. A triumphant gleam sparkles in his twin star’s eye, yet his voice is neutral as he speaks. “You did not uncover your true Wish, Kamui.” And abruptly he is gone, leaving Kamui broken in a growing pool of his own blood. The fluid crimson is very warm and Kamui wishes he were drenched in it, the blood acting as a blanket that shields him from the encroaching cold. His breath is stubborn and refuses to be drawn properly. Each suffering gasp is too shallow to supply him with enough air and he begins to grow light-headed. The steel bolts jutting up from the beam dig brutally into his back. No matter, he supposes. They won’t bother him in a few minutes. A few, long, painful minutes. Kamui gazes up into the empty sky, his sight blurry with agony. Beneath him, he can feel the tower begin to rumble. He turns a heavy head to look out over Tokyo and he is chagrined to see that the apocalypse has begun. The Dragon of Earth stretches up from the ground in an exalted gesture of victory. The creature is raw power, its elongated, jagged form akin to a fatal lightning bolt that rips the sky apart. Kamui watches as it waltzes through the air, unfurling waves of destruction that roll over the city. Buildings explode in its wake, the smoke from the fires billowing thick in the air, creating black clouds that obscure the escape to the heavens. People scream and weep, their mingled cries rising up to him, and Kamui is finally aware of the consequences of losing the Final Battle. Humanity is dying. The Earth is destroying itself in order to be born anew. All because he was too weak to fight. All because he couldn’t understand what he Wished for. And now his ignorance is costing everyone everything. He lies there limp and helpless as down below people shout prayers to a God that is forsaking them. Kamui thinks that they are praying to him; he does represent the majesty of God after all. However, that majesty seems rather lackluster at the moment as he is unable to do anything to alleviate their sorrow. He couldn’t even prevent it from happening in the first place. The cacophony of wails and invocations rises and wanes, eventually seeming to form a rhythm, becoming harmonious and almost melodious. Curious, Kamui manages to tilt his body to the side, and as he moves, his hand applies pressure to the wound in an assurance to keep his insides from spilling out of it. He is lying precariously on the edge of the beam, but now he is better able to look down onto the ruined streets. A priest stands in the middle of the sidewalk surrounded by a flock of panicked people who raise hands out to him in supplication. Others rush by the congregation in attempts to flee the chaos, but the religious stop to add one more voice to the collective plea to God. The priest is chanting, voice deep and resonating. “Kyrie, fons bonitatis, Pater ingenite a quo bona cuncta procedunt, eleison. Christe, unice Del Patris Genite, quem de virgine nasciturum mundo mirifice sancti praedixerunt prophaetae, eleison.” At intervals, the people chime in, their own voices scared and hysterical. “Kyrie, eleison! Christe, eleison! Kyrie, eleison!” The priest calls and the people respond, and the chant ebbs and flows with the dissonance in inflection a heartbreaking lament; a requiem for the nameless bodies that are beginning to litter the pavement. Kamui suddenly hears soft footfalls behind him, every step ringing metallic, and he struggles to roll back over to see who is approaching. By the time he is turned around and the bolts are thrust up against his back once more, the figure has knelt down beside him. A dark cloak flows down in folds, soaking up the spilled blood, while slender fingers reach up to push the hood back. Kamui tries to stifle a wrenching gasp as he finds himself looking into Subaru’s mismatched gaze. “S-Su…” Kamui croaks out, but the onmyouji lays a gloved finger against his lips, silencing him. Subaru doesn’t speak a word as he gently lifts the dying boy’s head and rests it on his knees, providing what little comfort he can. The onmyouji looks critically down on him and Kamui finds it unnerving to stare into those distanced eyes. The emerald green orb is shaded with sadness, but the honey-colored one appears cold and condescending. Kamui nearly impales himself on the steel bolts as he recoils from that disdainful gaze. If Subaru sees the fear of condemnation in Kamui’s amethyst eyes or feels the delicate body in his lap tense up, he ignores it. Instead, he almost absently strokes tender fingers through the younger’s hair and turns a haunted gaze upon the rest of Tokyo. Kamui starts to wheeze. Each breath whistles in his throat and he can feel the blood gurgling in his lungs. He wants to speak, compelled to say something to the one person he never wanted to be hated by. I tried. I failed. I’m sorry. But he knows he can’t even manage that little. He wishes Subaru would say something, the lack of spoken communication making him feel alienated. He needs the words to console him, to reach out and let him know that, in the end, he is connected to someone, even if it is only through a shared language. Down below, the priest’s chant resounds, stable and soothing. The answered voices have grown in number and they nearly drown out the calm lilt of the hymn. The two Dragons listen, allowing themselves to get swept up in the exchange. Suddenly, Subaru takes a breath and in perfect unison with the priest, quietly echoes the line of the Kyrial. “Kyrie, ignis divine, pectora nostra succende, ut digne pariter proclamare possimus omnes, eleison.” Kamui is taken aback at the foreign statement, spoken with a flawless accent. The fact that Subaru understands it, that he can belong to the little community that has developed around this chant, makes Kamui feel even more isolated and lost. Here in the Sumeragi’s arms, he is all alone. “Kyrie, eleison!” the people implore. “Lord, have mercy,” Subaru translates in a whisper, and his gaze is upon the livid gash in the young boy’s torso. Kamui is finally granted the words that affirm that he has not been abandoned, but they aren’t as comforting as he had hoped they would be. They confirm rather than reassure that someone is bearing this ordeal with him and Kamui still feels strangely desolate. He lets the words run in his head, mentally absorbing their meaning the way a wine connoisseur would savor the intricate and subtle qualities of the flavor. Lord, have mercy. He wonders if the congregation is seeking salvation or an end to the misery. Kamui knows which one he prefers. The people down below finally get the answer they have been pleading for, however it is the Dragon of Earth that actually responds. The beast surges through the streets, roaring past the tower, which tremors so violently that it shudders excruciatingly through Kamui’s body. Subaru pulls him closer, hunching over in attempts to shield the boy’s body while protecting his head in the crook of his arm. Kamui appreciates the gesture though he thinks it is pointless. The glow of the Dragon glints off the buildings and they gleam golden for the few seconds before shattering apart. Debris and glass rains down heavily, stifling the assembly of worshippers. The chant ends abruptly, followed by a few muffled screams, and then there is nothing but the far off thunder of earthquakes as they seize hold of the rest of the planet. Kamui despairs for the loss of those unknown people. But at least they died connected with each other, sound as their unifier. They didn’t die lonely deaths. The urge to say something—anything—to Subaru grows overwhelmingly and he steels his aching lungs in preparation to bridge the chasm between them. He needs this, if not for the connection, then for the absolution it would grant him. I wanted… I couldn’t… I love… But the blood wells up and he coughs it up all over the front of himself. He is certain that his lungs have burst apart at the seams and he clutches fiercely at his chest. Subaru frowns at his obvious pain and, unable to do much else, resumes running his fingers futilely through his hair. Kamui pants through gritted teeth while trying to blink the tears clear from his eyes. The pain begins to drag him down and he falls gradually into it, both reluctantly and gratefully. He allows himself to relax in the Sumeragi’s arms, trying to find solace through touch, though it is not the bond he seeks. Around them, the whole world is on fire. The Dragon soars around and the Earth begins to split apart. The tower lurches and the steel beams groan loudly as the building warns of its nearing collapse. Kamui opens his mouth, needing to try one last time, but when Subaru gives him a melancholic look, his unspoken farewell dies in his throat. And it suddenly hits Kamui that Subaru is going to die with him. For some reason, he had assumed that the Sumeragi had any self-preservation instincts and that once he died, Subaru would attempt to find shelter from the destruction. It’s the End of the World, he reminds himself. You can’t really hide when the Earth decides to implode on itself. And so Subaru is repressing words because he knows they are worthless. They are intangible, fleeting, and they dissolve once they are given a vocal form. Instead, Subaru is offering so much more. The thought of their bodies suffering through the apocalypse and finding their last resting place forever entwined in each other’s embrace is enough to give Kamui that connection he has been craving. That reassurance that he won’t be alone in the end. He won’t be alone after the end. The final breath hitches painfully in his chest and with the bittersweet moment of release comes the realization that it’s okay if he never says goodbye. ~~~ END [ back ]
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